


In a Drop of Water

by Stone_Princess



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stone_Princess/pseuds/Stone_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike cleans house and finds what he did not even know he was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Drop of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Many kisses and thanks to [mskatej](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/) for her excellent beta work. She made this story tighter and tidier. And my beautiful [supergrover24](http://archiveofourown.org/users/supergrover24/) for hand-holding, audiencing, editing and basically making sure my dress isn't tucked in the back of my pantyhose when I come back from the bathroom, erm, metaphorically speaking.
> 
> Disclaimer: I owe the creators of _Suits_ a huge debt for giving me something wonderful to work with. I do this for fun and not for profit or gain. I do not own or have any rights to the characters here within. Please do not archive without my permission.

* * *

"It was very nice of your boss to give you the day off for my birthday, Mike. And very sweet of you to come spend the whole day with me, but you should take some time for yourself, too. You work too hard these days."

"No, Grammy, Harvey..." Mike trailed off on his objection. How would Harvey even know it was Grammy's birthday? It had to be coincidence that the one time he had ever given Mike a day off was this day. No, there was no coincidence with Harvey. "Yeah, it was nice of him. I'll let him know you appreciated it. Now tell me about the time Grandpa took you camping for your birthday."

"Oh, Mike, don't tease an old lady, you don't want to hear those stories again."

"I do. I definitely do." Mike leaned forward in his chair and reached for his grandmother's hand while she started her story. He had all day after all.

Mike listened to his grandmother's stories until she was too tired to talk anymore and left her to nap until dinner. He spent some time with the nurses, getting any information he could about how she was really doing and when he was satisfied that everything was in order he biked home. The weather was unusually crisp and clear for February, no hint of spring, but lacking the grim dankness of New York in mid-winter. 

A whole afternoon free with no chance of being called into work seemed like an insane luxury. Although, who was he kidding, he knew work would call if something came up. But best not to think about it and enjoy the time for what it was. The only problem was that Mike did not really have anything to do. His whole life was so much about work that now a free afternoon seemed less like a blank canvas to paint something gorgeous on and more like a foggy grey hole you could not see the bottom of, leaving him entirely unsure what to fill it with.

Cleaning his apartment seemed like the best option. Somehow the less time he spent here the messier it became. He had heaps of laundry to put away. Thankfully clean already, since it was cheaper to send it out, relatively speaking, than the time or sleep he would have lost trying to get it all done himself. There were always dishes to wash, a never ending cycle of them. And when was the last time he had scrubbed out the bathtub? Had he ever dusted in here? When did he become the kind of person who dusted? Too much time under Harvey's influence, obviously. Of course Harvey surely paid someone do his dusting for him. If dust even dared settle on his things. Mike laughed out loud at the idea.

He thought about it as he was putting his laundry away, how intimidated by Harvey everyone was. Other associates seemed utterly in awe at the mere mention of his name. Mike had seen other attorneys swear like sailors when they discovered they were going up against Harvey. Even Louis, for all his rivalrous bluster, had backed down more than once when challenged by Harvey. Mike hung up a suit, checking the pressing on it to make sure he would not shame Harvey by showing up wrinkled tomorrow. And it struck him, the air going right out of him as he realized, that he was not intimidated by Harvey. Not any more anyway. No, Mike's only concerns were very definitely about making Harvey proud, about getting his approval, not disappointing him. He knew Harvey too well now, knew things that were true even if Harvey would not admit them. Mike had seen his soft side and that had brought a respect that left him totally undaunted by Harvey's imposing presence.

The kitchen and dusting had actually been pretty easy to take care of. Mike made a mental note that if he spent twenty minutes on it a week it probably would not get out of control again. The bathroom was a different story. As a child Mike had thought that elbow grease was something you could produce if you worked hard enough, some magic substance that would polish and make everything better. In retrospect that was pretty disgusting and the reality of it was that it was very tiring. The end result though, was very satisfying. Probably it did not meet the standards of whatever gleaming temple of chrome and porcelain Harvey had in his penthouse. But for eighty-year-old fixtures in a bachelor's bathroom they looked fantastic when he was done.

Mike put all the cleaning supplies away and dropped heavily onto the couch. The room looked amazing, late afternoon sunlight streaming in, giving it a golden, dream-like quality. Everything in the right place, he had tidied when he dusted, the only things not put away was a stack of briefs and other work on the kitchen table. It was not such a bad place. He closed his eyes and imagined Harvey's impression of it. He guessed that Harvey thought he lived in some closet-sized Brooklyn slum with clothes and pizza boxes heaped everywhere. He wished he could show Harvey this peaceful room, filled with golden light, pictures hung straight on the wall and all the things left over from all the minutes he had lived before he met Harvey. All the things that were Mike's, things that _were_ Mike, made of his memories and his past.

He opened his eyes and surveyed the room again. This was all he had; everything in his life that was not work was inside this apartment. How had it come to be that when he finally looked at all of it, thought about it, it was Harvey he wanted to share it with? The antique lamp his mother had been so proud of finding at a yard sale? It was Harvey he wanted to tell that story to. The mostly complete set of dishes his grandmother had gotten when she married his grandfather? Harvey would surely appreciate what good care Mike had taken of them. The small picture of Mike and his parents by the bed? Harvey would know how important it was that it was always there.

Or would he? Was this just more of the fantasy that Harvey was paying attention to him, really noticing him? He did not know for sure that Harvey had specifically given him the day off for his grandmother's birthday. It could have simply been the most suitable day for it, the only time Mike could take off that would not inconvenience Harvey. Harvey was still a self-serving jerk most of the time, after all. Mike’s head rushed with the usual confusion he got when he tried to put all the pieces of Harvey together. Sometimes he thought he knew Harvey better than anyone and yet he always wanted more from him. When Mike tried to look into the dark corners of his thoughts, the answers ran away again. What more could he ask Harvey for? Harvey had already given Mike an entirely new life and all the guidance he could hope for. Still Mike wanted more, even when he did not know exactly what to ask for.

Mike sighed and pushed himself off the couch. It was a useless train of thought. He would go shower in his wonderfully clean bathroom and find something nice to take his grandmother for dinner. The nurses had told him what they thought would be good and Mike never forgot her favorites. He was not going to think about Harvey until tomorrow, and if today was a gift from Harvey, he was going to make sure Grammy got the best parts of it.

***

"How was your grandmother's birthday? Did you do anything special?" Donna asked as Mike walked up.

Mike stopped short. "How did you know?"

"Well, first of all, I know everything. And secondly, Harvey said you took the day off to spend it with her. Said you hadn't been spending enough time with her lately."

"No, I didn't. He... Harvey," Mike stopped, unsure of what he was going to say. Donna watched him for a second.

"I know," she said. "He's good when it really counts."

"Yeah, he is."

"Just don't let him know you know. Also he's waiting for you in conference room C. I'd suggest you hurry." And then the light of Donna's attention was gone as she turned back to her computer.

Mike hurried to conference room C. He knew he should be anxious about why Harvey was there so early, but all he could think was that Harvey had given him the day off for his grandmother's birthday. Specifically. Just for that reason. So Mike could spend time with her. Mike knew Harvey cared, had always known. Still, it was shocking when it was so blatantly displayed.

"You're late," Harvey said as soon as Mike walked in. In the bright morning light of the conference room he looked wide awake, like he never ever slept, never started a day, just simply existed in it, always ready for anything. Mike certainly did not ever feel ready for anything this early in the morning.

"It's barely five past seven," Mike protested, but Harvey's look was enough to keep him from saying anything more. Harvey tossed a case file at him.

"All the background is in there, we're meeting the client at eight for a breakfast meeting, think you can be ready by then?"

Mike nodded and opened the file. It was at least a hundred pages thick. He sighed and heard Harvey grunt in return. He did not look up. He did not need to start his day having already disappointed Harvey.

The meeting took forever and the research Harvey sent Mike after ate up the rest of the hours in the day. Mike was fairly sure he had eaten lunch, but really he could not have told you what it was. It was long past dark when he finished, the office mostly empty, but the lights in Harvey's office were still on. Mike lurked in the doorway for a second. Harvey's jacket was off, his tie loosened, though his waistcoat was still impeccably buttoned and his hair neatly in place. Mike cleared his throat and Harvey looked up.

"I just wanted to thank you," Mike started, "for yesterday."

Harvey did not answer right away just looked at Mike, his face unreadable. The minutes seemed to stretch by before he finally asked, "Did you eat?" 

"Yeah, no, I did."

"Recently?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, come on, I could use dinner." Harvey pushed his tie back into a perfect double Windsor as he stood up and snagged his jacket as he came around the desk. He headed right past Mike, out the door.

"Where are we going?" Mike asked hurrying after him.

Harvey looked over his shoulder, a half smirk on his face. "Dinner," he said, as if explaining something to a toddler. Mike rolled his eyes and followed along.

***

"I cannot believe, with everything this place has to offer, you ordered a cheeseburger." Harvey looked offended, but Mike knew enough by now when to find the amusement under that expression. He could patent it, Harvey's subdued mock horror.

"You're always telling me I'm too skinny. The rest of that food? Is for people trying to stay skinny or people trying to impress you that they will eat baby octopus."

"You really have no taste."

"No, it's the fact that I can taste things that keeps me from eating baby octopus."

Harvey laughed, genuine pleasure spreading over his face. These were the best moments. Mike pushed away the thought that this Harvey, this generous, expansive Harvey, was the real Harvey, the one Mike had dreamt yesterday of sharing all the pieces of his life with.

The waitress came to clear their plates and brought another round of drinks that Mike had not even noticed Harvey order. He had probably already drank too much for a work night, but he did not want to say no to Harvey, did not want to end this calm hour in the storm of their time together.

"So you had a good day yesterday?" Harvey asked the question like it was an answer to Mike's thanks in his office hours ago.

"Yes, yes!" Mike fumbled, almost spilling into his lap while trying to drink, swallow, answer and set down his glass all at once. "That was really nice, Harvey. My grandmother told me to tell you thank you for her. It was nice to have dinner with her and spend some time with her that wasn't rushed."

Harvey waved his hand, turning down the honor Mike was giving him as if he did not deserve it. "You needed the day. You can't work all the time, Mike. You have to do other things, too. You do other things, right?"

"Uh, I pretty much eat, sleep and think about you. I mean," Mike tried to back track, realizing he had not meant to say that. "I think about work. It's pretty much all I have now. But it's good. Really good, I mean, I have a place that's mine and I love working with you and being a lawyer. It's so much better than everything I had before," Mike finished lamely.

Harvey's smile was gone and surely it was a trick of the candle light in the dim restaurant, but Mike thought he looked downright predatory.

"You think about me," Harvey said quietly.

"At work, just in a work context." Mike could feel himself blushing as he blurted the words out. Why was he still even talking, it was like he could not stop himself. "I mean, I don't have anything else, it's just work and Grammy, you and my little apartment. My bike. My computer."

Mike could barely sit still through the moment that followed, unsure even what his own words had meant, afraid to examine them, desperate not to think about what Harvey had taken from them. Finally Harvey broke the silence.

"Feel like you’re ready for the deposition tomorrow, after today's research?"

Mike did his best to fill the silence with as many words about the case as he could fit in. He tried to build a wall with that case, to block out all the foolishness that had already spilled out of his mouth.

When they left the restaurant the air outside was back to the thick, clinging February cold of New York. A grim midwinter night. Harvey made no move to call a cab despite the chill and Mike jammed his hands into his pockets against the wind.

"Mike," Harvey said, stepping toward him, into his space. "You should have something good. Something that isn't work. You deserve more."

"I don't need..."

And Harvey was kissing him, his hands still warm as they slid up to cup Mike's jaw. It was a slow kiss, a question and Mike tipped his head to answer it, struggled to get his hands from his pockets and on to Harvey's waist. It was a sweet kiss, a gentle kiss and Mike opened his lips to offer more to Harvey, to offer all of himself.

Harvey broke the kiss but did not move away, his hands on Mike's jaw, his eyes nearly black under the dark winter sky. "Okay?" Harvey asked.

"Yeah," Mike answered, feeling stunned, delighted and so very unsure of what he was supposed to do. "I have a lamp that you should see, Harvey." And also apparently unable to answer appropriately. He felt the flush rising up his neck.

Harvey chuckled. "A lamp?" His eyebrow went up, questioning. "Are you inviting me back to your place, Mike? Do you have etchings to show me too?"

"Yes, no, no etchings. I mean sometime. It's just, I'd like you to see it. My place, I mean, and, uh, I guess my lamp." His blush surely covered his face by now, his ears were on fire and he would have turned away if Harvey's hands had not still been on his face.

"I'd like that. But let's take this slow, okay?"

"Yes. Slow." As if to defy his own answer Mike moved forward to kiss Harvey, deeply this time and Harvey opened to him, slipping his hand possessively around the back of Mike's neck and moaning lightly when Mike bit his lip.

This was the answer that had been hiding in the corner of every thought Mike had had for months now. This was the question he could never ask himself. This was why there was no space or time for anything else. He only needed Harvey. He did not want anything else but Harvey. And if he had been paying attention, maybe he would have seen that Harvey wanted him too.

This moment was perfect, more perfect than golden motes of sunlight, even as the wind chilled their cheeks and tugged at their coats, Mike could not imagine a life better than the one he had now.

~fin~

* * *

The title is stolen from Federico García Lorca's _The Little Mute Boy_ : 

The little boy was looking for his voice.  
(The king of the crickets had it.)  
In a drop of water  
the little boy was looking for his voice.

I do not want it for speaking with;  
I will make a ring of it  
so that he may wear my silence  
on his little finger

In a drop of water  
the little boy was looking for his voice.

(The captive voice, far away,  
put on a cricket's clothes.)


End file.
